


Of Loss and Closure

by theorchidhorror



Series: OverPrompt [5]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Light Angst, One Shot, post 'alive' cinematic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 02:48:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14034483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theorchidhorror/pseuds/theorchidhorror
Summary: Human or Omnic, the loss of a loved one is a tragedy one cannot bear alone; Zenyatta calls on the Iris for closure.





	Of Loss and Closure

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Everything will fall into place."  
> Coincidentally written as the same time as Zenyatta appreciation week over on tumblr, so I went ahead and chose the "Emotion/Reaction" prompt for that.
> 
> Not beta'd, apologies for grammatical errors and whatnot.

He feels it in his heart before he knows what has happened.

A sudden, rapidly falling sensation deep within him; a twisting- like the wires and cords that make up his being have been tangled into a knot that might never be unwound. And though the Iris does not imbue one with omniscience, Zenyatta knows without a doubt that Mondatta has been killed.

The official news still hits him like a ton of bricks.

For days that feel like weeks, Mondatta’s assassination is front page news, with coverage that Zenyatta can’t seem to escape, and it weighs heavy on his soul in a way he never imagined possible; he feels… hollow, somehow, and within him develops a disconnect from the Iris that scares the omnic; how could it allow someone so _good-_ so **noble** , as his master to fall at the hands of assassins?

Mondatta would know exactly what to say to put Zenyatta’s mind at ease.

The monastery calls to him- his home for so many years. It calls him home to grieve in peace. His brothers and sisters too, must surely be reeling from the news of his master’s death but… Zenyatta knows the peace and balance he seeks will not be found within the walls of the Shambali.

King’s Row calls to him- the site of his master’s murder. It calls him to action; there are countless others who feel the loss of Mondatta- others who could perhaps use his teachings and guidance. But Zenyatta cannot will himself to the place, for he knows whatever words of comfort he might speak to them will feel empty and disingenuous.

Perhaps the best plan of action is to not take action at all. Perhaps he needs time, to meditate on his pain and on the loss of a friend. Zenyatta sits, hovering just inches off the floor, and bows his head, relaxing his arms upon his legs. He lets the air flow delicately around him, and tries to center his attention on the soft chiming from the orbs dancing smoothly in a wide circle around his shoulders.

His attention is utterly devoted to the chiming; whereas humans might mediate on the flow of their breath, concentrating only on the pacing of their breathing, Zenyatta lets the rhythm of the ringing serve as something of a substitute metronome. Mondatta had taught him that… He-

All at once the orbs dancing around Zenyatta fall unceremoniously to the floor, and the omnic is not far behind. In a moment of frustration, the monk grabs an orb and hurls it as far as possible, pleading his distracted mind to fly with it. A beat, and the metal orb hits the floor, a dull clang that still manages to echo throughout the room. This is- so unlike him, he muses. His emotions have gotten the better of him and it’s beginning to show in his meditations. 

Zenyatta crosses his legs again, and this time buries his face into his hands with a mechanical sigh.

“Master- _Mondatta_ , I… I do not know how to do this without you. I fear I cannot.” The words come out broken and pained, and Zenyatta hardly knows why he’s spoken out loud but...for a half of a moment, it helps. “I am… afraid I am not ready to walk this world without you.” 

“The Iris does not take those who are gone at a time when their loved ones are ready. It takes them simply when it is their time.” The voice is soft spoken and soothing, as it often was when they spoke, and as Zenyatta lifts his head he finds Mondatta, somehow seated in front of him and bathed in a brilliant golden light. ”That is the way it has always been, Zenyatta. I would not presume to be an exception.” 

Mondatta reaches for Zenyatta’s hands, and takes them in his own with a reassuring squeeze. “Perhaps my death was simply only to facilitate a change. Perhaps there is a bigger purpose.”

Zenyatta looks away from Mondatta, to their hands, but does not pull his away. He hesitates, unsure if this Mondatta before him is real or only a projection. He _feels_ real, he _sounds_ real- and yet… “What purpose could your death serve?” 

Mondatta hums, thoughtful. “I can say only that everything will fall into place, Zenyatta. Do not stray from your calling and all will become clear in time.” 

He pulls his hands from his master’s then, looking back down at them, inspecting them as if they were not his own. “...I miss you greatly, brother.” 

“And I you. But we are all one within the Iris. You are never without me so long as you maintain your faith. I am with you in each rising of the sun, the ascending of the moon; with each soul you touch and with every day you endure. The pain you feel at my departure will dull, and though our bodies may be separated, our hearts will still work as one.”

Silence then, as Zenyatta considers his teacher’s message. These are all things Zenyatta knows- all teachings of his master and things he’s heard before. But to be reminded of Mondatta’s wisdom, in a time when he so desperately needs it- it sets his soul at ease, if only a little.

Zenyatta lifts his head again, to meet eyes with Mondatta, but finds that the other has disappeared entirely. The soft golden glow that had accompanied his teacher is gone as well, leaving the omnic once again alone in the darkened room.

Alone… and yet not alone. No one is ever really alone within the Iris, no one is ever really gone- he knows this now to be true. The pain still lingers, but for the moment it is no longer enveloping. For the first time since the news, Zenyatta can breathe- metaphorically.

 

“Thank you, my friend.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm almost always taking Overwatch prompts over on my tumblr (theteufortbystander). If there's something you'd like to see me try my hand at, feel free to shoot me a suggestion wither there or here. Thanks for reading!


End file.
